


Balconies And Rooftops

by kuonji



Series: Never Too Late [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Animated)
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"There's something about being in the dark and high up," Bruce had told him long ago.  "It makes people want to confess things."</i>
</p><p>Dick and Bruce have a chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balconies And Rooftops

"You and Barbara are getting serious."

Robin nearly experienced whiplash as he turned to gape at the man beside him.

Statue-like, Batman continued gazing down at the building they were staking out. His expression was obscured by the darkness of the new moon, the shadow of the building they were perched on the side of, and a pair of foldable binoculars held up to his eyes.

They almost never discussed home matters while suited up, and especially not outside the cave. Batman had warned him of that time and again. There was too much danger of getting their separate identities mixed up and seeing the consequences at a moment when it might matter most. This aberration was downright mystifying.

"Uh. Maybe?" he answered, reflexively glancing down at the empty balcony they were watching. In point of fact, he'd been thinking a lot lately about Barbara. About... marriage. Maybe bagging the cape and mask for a 'normal' life. He'd almost lost her not too long ago. It made him realize how he could lose everything in a moment. Like he had lost his parents. Like Bruce had lost his.

The case with Victor Fries had been sticking in Dick's mind lately.

It'd been one of the most horrible moments of his life when Batman had ordered him onto that jet and run back into the inferno of the oil platform with Barbara at his side. Two of the most important people in the world to him. He couldn't fault the logic at the time, but it incensed him later, how Batman had let Barbara go with him, knowing she had no training for this type of situation. Knowing what she meant to Dick. Thank god they had both made it out alive.

Only for Batman to run right back into danger by himself.

It wasn't worth it, he thought. It _couldn't_ be worth it. What if Batman had bought it back there? Did he ever think about the people he was leaving behind? How would Alfred feel? How would _Dick_ feel? The worst part was, it wasn't even the first time Batman had done something like that.

Getting almost blown to smithereens wasn't the hard part. _That_ was, in a way, just part of the fun. At least, he'd used to think so. No, the gut-wrenching part was watching his best friend and partner get nearly killed every night and knowing Batman didn't even care.

And what if _he_ was the one who made a mistake one day? What about all the plans he still had for the future?

Barbara being kidnapped and nearly murdered had opened his eyes. All the people he'd saved in the past wouldn't have mattered if he had let Barbara get hurt on his watch. He never wanted to see her in danger like that again.

He'd also decided: He wasn't going to put her through the same misery.

If they really got together in a permanent way, like he hoped they eventually would, he'd tell her about Robin. And if she asked him to quit... Well, then the Batman would have to go back to being a solo act.

Or, heck. He seemed to be getting pretty cozy with Batgirl recently. Maybe they could team up and just leave him out of it for good. Then Dick wouldn't even have to feel guilty about leaving the citizens of Gotham without one of its protectors.

"I suppose she's coming to your graduation tomorrow," Batman observed, with hardly a change in tone.

"Yeah. I saved tickets for her and Alfred. And you." He didn't ask, _"Will you be using yours?"_

"Barbara's an intelligent and resourceful woman. You remember the Cybertron case. Even back then, she showed initiative and ingenuity." Robin narrowed his eyes at his partner. Was Batman... approving of her? His next words quickly dispensed with that idea. "She's very devoted to her father."

Robin sighed and tried to fend off the impending lecture he felt sure was coming. "I know we work with Commissioner Gordon a lot. Trust me. I'll be careful."

Batman's stony gaze never left their target. His only comment was unexpectedly brief: "Sometimes people are least observant about the things right under their noses."

***

Was that supposed to have been a clue? Dick would like to think that it had been, he really would. That the first of a series of betrayals had not been as deliberate as it had seemed at the time. But he wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

***

_"It wasn't my place to tell you."_

***  
***

He probably should have called first, at least to let Alfred know. He couldn't really imagine sitting through a whole dinner with Bruce, though, not when Bruce was _ready_ for him. But he did show up and let himself in at what he thought should be the tail end of dessert. After all, what had that old sherpa said to him when he traveled to the Himalayas? _"Hunger is always important."_ Flying took a lot of calories.

Bruce was the first to look up. Damn, that man really did have bat ears. The kid caught the motion and gaped when he followed Bruce's gaze to Dick walking into the dining room. Dick noticed that the kid was sitting in 'his' seat. It wasn't as if he'd thought they'd save it for him. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if the kid was sleeping in his old room. Bruce's old room. Whatever.

He'd been right about dessert. Alfred was just setting down a slice of chocolate cheesecake in front of the kid.

"Oh good," he said, going for casual. "I _hoped_ Wednesdays were still cheesecake night."

"Master Dick!" Alfred exclaimed. "Please sit down. What a pleasant surprise. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, but dessert would be great."

"Very good, sir. I'll set you a place right away. Some Pinot Noir to accompany it?"

He grinned, remembering the first time Alfred had asked him his choice of wine at dinner. He'd been so shocked. Bruce had chuckled and toasted him with his own glass. _"Happy birthday, Dick."_

That had been one of the happier times. Dick sometimes forgot how many of those there'd been.

"Sure. Thanks, Alfred."

"Funny," the kid piped up as soon as Alfred had left. "When I asked if you were coming, I didn't mean to _dinner_." He gave Dick a sly smile, though, as if maybe he'd been expecting Dick to show.

Dick wasn't about to admit to being manipulated by someone roughly half his age and whose spiked hair barely reached Dick's collarbone -- but he had to hand it to the kid: Tim Drake had guts.

With his sunken, sullen eyes and thick, unruly black hair, it wasn't hard to imagine Tim as the street kid he'd been not more than a few months ago. He was scrawny for his age, too. Alfred had told him Tim was thirteen, despite the fact that he looked all of _ten_. Dick suspected his feet didn't even quite reach the floor where he was sitting.

"Funny. Aren't you the kid who was going to stay 'the night'?" he retorted and was gratified to see the kid scowl.

Bruce, meanwhile, watched the byplay between them, obviously not understanding all of what had happened but clicking it together in his brain just the same. "You're always welcome here, Dick," he said, in that careful voice that he tended to use since Dick had left the Manor. It drove Dick crazy, but he knew it meant that Bruce was trying. Maybe too late, but he was trying.

Silence descended. To fill it, Dick picked a seat on the side facing the windows and plopped himself down.

It was strange being in Wayne Manor again, sitting down to eat in the familiar dining room with the high ceilings and the long wood table that had used to look like something out of a grand castle to a small boy. He remembered how, a month after he'd moved in, Alfred had cooked them a medieval feast, consisting of fruits, stewed cabbage, baked cornish hen, a thick pea soup, blocks of cheese, and actual bread truncheons. Dick smiled and rubbed his palm over the polished surface next to his place mat. In some ways, it almost felt like he'd never left.

Alfred returned with Dick's place setting, dessert, and wine on a tray, and Dick took the opportunity to exchange a little conversation with the stately old butler. Yes, the garden was doing splendidly. The laundry machine had been repaired. There were some lovely dress shirts in from Italy, would Master Dick like to try some in his size when Alfred went to pick up Master Bruce's?

"No, that's okay, Alfred. I don't go to places that need a shirt and tie so much these days."

Alfred made a weary, exasperated face at him that caused Tim to titter and even Bruce to look less solemn.

Once the ice had been broken, the rest of dessert unfolded with a surprising minimum of tension. Cake crumbs and chocolate smears surfaced amid determined and occasionally animated shop talk -- Dick's new modifications to his bike, Tim's training progress, the possible whereabouts of Poison Ivy, the case of the missing Pearl of Argentina. Comparing range of motion versus effectiveness of different kevlar weaves took them through the wine dregs (and hot tea for Tim). Then the kid was packed off to finish his homework while Dick and Bruce were shooed away so Alfred could clear the table.

They repaired to the balcony, where a breeze helped to temper the warm night. Bruce stood looking out over the stone balustrade onto the dim, spacious grounds. Dick leaned his back against it a couple of feet away.

 _"Why did you come by tonight?"_ Bruce didn't ask him.

 _"How come you never invite me back?"_ Dick didn't ask in return.

Dick squinted at the brilliance of the dining room lights inside, flickering whenever Alfred crossed in front of them. They seemed very far away through the glass of the closed French doors.

"I met up with your new sidekick the other night," he finally said, looking over at Bruce to gauge his reaction.

Bruce raised his eyebrows slightly but didn't turn to look at him. "You always wanted to be called my 'partner'."

"I _was_ your partner," he answered hotly before he brought himself under control. Irritated at how ready he was to fall back into old habits, he shrugged and affected an air of unconcern. "Your 'partner' now is Batgirl. The kid? Sidekick."

A twitch of a smile moved the corner of Bruce's mouth, but quickly faded back into the depths. Dick found himself abruptly nostalgic for a time when he'd been able to make Bruce laugh with a handstand or a well-placed jibe.

"So. Robin's already going on solo patrols. Isn't it a bit soon for that?" Dick hadn't been allowed out solo until he was almost fifteen.

"He's different from you," Bruce answered the unasked question.

"Oh?"

"He knows when to run. And he knows how to fight dirty." From anyone else, that might have been a joke. But Bruce didn't display even the hint of a smile.

Dick snorted. "Sounds like a winner."

"He wears a tracker." Bruce's voice was deliberately mild. Conciliatory, perhaps. Dick had never had to wear a tracking device of any kind (that he knew of, at least), except for the standard ones on the vehicles. Then again, he'd always done as he was told, been where he was supposed to be.

He watched Bruce's expression closely as he told him, "We met an old friend, too. You probably know him. Australian accent. Has a son? Last time I saw him, Batman had him up against a wall, asking him where the Joker was. He works for WayneTech now." Bruce said nothing. "What happened to 'no mercy for those who break the law'?"

"I wasn't trying to help _him_ ," Bruce answered mildly.

Dick had guessed that much. Bruce Wayne had a soft spot for hard luck kids about ten miles wide. That was why Dick was even here to begin with. It was why the Drake kid was inside, no doubt jittering his way through Algebra on a sugar high, after inhaling three helpings of chocolate cheesecake.

The next question was a bit harder -- but Dick trusted his instincts.

"You have a... thing with the Joker, don't you?"

Bruce frowned, and his body tightened up in a way that made Dick envisage Batman wrapping his cape around himself. "If you call a 'thing' the fact that he's murdered over a dozen people, then, yes."

"Did he kill someone in particular?" He knew he'd stepped over the line as soon as the words left his mouth, but Bruce's icy silence was all the answer he needed.

For a long while, Dick had wanted to understand. When he'd gone looking for Alfred and Babs in the crowd with his college diploma fresh in hand, and he hadn't seen Bruce with them, he'd told himself that was just like the cold-hearted bastard.

The thing was, though, he also remembered a day when Bruce Wayne had taken two hours off of work to come to his high school graduation. That picture of the two of them was still in a box in the attic, along with other things that he hadn't wanted to take with him when he'd moved out but couldn't bear to throw away. What had changed?

"What happened that month I was in Europe anyway?" The Joker had been mixed up in that case, too. Dick had read the news reports after he'd gotten back, but Alfred had refused to give him any more than general answers, and Bruce... Dick was sick of the lies and secrets that Bruce still felt needed to be between them.

Bruce kept his gaze fixed over the garden. "Alfred has a big mouth."

"He just said it turned out to be someone you used to know." He paused. "A _woman_ you used to know."

There was a long moment where there was nothing to hear but the crickets and the wind.

"We were almost engaged."

It was all Dick could do not to show his surprise -- both at the revelation and at the fact Bruce had shared it. _"There's something about being in the dark and high up,"_ Bruce had told him long ago. _"It makes people want to confess things. Use it."_

"When was this?" he asked softly, trying to be no more obtrusive than the night around them.

Bruce sighed. "A long time ago. Back before."

Dick didn't need to ask 'before what'.

Bruce leaned his elbows on the balcony railing, looking deep into the darkness. His face didn't register any expression. He'd never needed a mask to hide. "I thought we could be happy together. We both thought so. It didn't work out."

Dick suppressed a roll of the eyes. Bruce's gift for understatement was familiar to him. He waited for more even though he knew he wouldn't get it. Finally, he sighed. "I would've come back if I'd known." Back then, he wouldn't have resented giving up a sweet vacation in order to save Batman's ass. Truth to tell, he still wouldn't.

"I know."

He wasn't sure what to make of that. Glad that Bruce trusted him that far. Annoyed that the thought still made him feel good. Angry that Bruce _hadn't_ called him. According to the reports, it'd been a nasty case. Batman could have really used the backup -- but he always thought he could do things on his own, and better than anyone else could.

Except now, he patrolled at night with Batgirl at his side, and in addition, he'd picked up this new sidekick who was wearing Robin's old suit. Dick thought he should maybe feel _jealous_ or something, but really, he just... didn't get it.

Throwing out another line, he made his own moderate confession: "I think about it sometimes. I wonder what changed."

He didn't expect Bruce to snort derisively and reply, "Nothing changes."

Dick had interrogated enough people to know when to keep his mouth shut and wait it out.

"When I first knew Joker, he liked to blow things up, but I was always able to keep him from actually killing someone. Now he's out of jail with over fifteen counts of murder on his head. And Harley -- she's more attached to him than ever. It doesn't make any sense.

"And then there's Selina Kyle. Every time she swore she'd given up crime, I thought maybe, _this time_. But it never happened. We'd just keep playing the same game, back and forth.

"For a long time, I kept hoping Harvey at least would get better. It almost happened, remember?" Dick nodded, though he wasn't sure Bruce noticed. "I kept trying to get through to him again, as Bruce, as Batman. Nothing ever worked. I've come to realize that nothing ever will. No, the only way things change is for the worse. Do you know how I met Tim?"

Dick frowned at the non sequitur, but he remembered the case. He'd called to let Babs know he was back in town. He owed her that much. She had told him about the new addition to the Wayne (and the Bat) family, probably as part of her quiet ongoing campaign to get him and Bruce to speak to each other again. She would have known he wouldn't be able to resist checking out the kid for himself. "It was during that scare with the poisoned gas that... oh." That Two-Face had held the city hostage with.

"Two-Face was looking for Tim's father. After he finished interrogating the boy, he flipped his coin. It came up bad. He told his goons to kill him. Just like that. Business as usual."

That was low. But Dick wasn't surprised. With a sick feeling, he realized that, six years ago, he might have been. Former District Attorney Harvey Dent hadn't settled into the mob life with his conscience completely excised. In fact, his uncertainties over his darker persona had often been the key to bringing him in. There was a time when Dick would never have expected Two-Face to murder a child in cold blood.

And Bruce was right. Harvey had almost come back. Once.

 _"Good old Bruce,"_ he'd said, as he was led back into lockup. Again. _"Always there. You never give up on me."_

 _"He's right. You're always there for him,"_ Dick had observed.

_"Yes. Just like you're always there for me."_

Dick crossed his arms and turned to stare into the night, pensive. It was almost annoying, how all the anger he'd been carrying around for all this time was draining away after just a few minutes of honesty from his former guardian. His former... friend.

 _"Hey, what are friends for?"_ he'd said back then, and meant it.

He could remember the feel of Bruce's tense shoulder under his arm as they walked back to the car. The smell of the rain-damp wool of his suit jacket. The tired cast to the smile on Bruce's face. The sound of the police van pulling away.

After all this time, Bruce had finally given up on Harvey. And Dick had stopped looking out for Bruce. Where had it all gone wrong?

"I'm not giving up," he declared with a renewed sense of purpose. Or maybe it was just bullheadedness.

Bruce gave him a look. "I'm not either," he responded evenly. "I just... can't get so personally involved anymore."

Dick understood that. He decided he could keep his other opinions to himself.

The clock chimed nine o' clock from inside. Dick glanced behind him through the French doors. He thought about going home.

"I like the new costume. And the name. It suits you." The comment was as startling as it was exhilarating to hear.

Pride swelled for a moment, burst soon after by a stab of irritation. He didn't need Bruce's approval. In the spirit of reconciliation, though, he merely said, "Thanks."

Bruce coughed. "The, uh... the hair. Don't you think it's a bit... impractical?"

This time, Dick gave him the hairy eyeball. Seriously?

"I just don't think you should be providing the criminals convenient handles." Evidently feeling the chill, Bruce held up a hand. "Never mind. I guess it's a... young person thing."

Repressing the smile almost made his facial muscles spasm. He realized suddenly that the kid was right. He was getting to be just like Bruce -- way too serious. A few years ago, after a remark like that, he would have had two or three jokes about Bruce Wayne's age all lined up ready to go. Well, he hadn't been the wise-cracking Boy Wonder in a long time. And that was a good thing, wasn't it?

Ignoring issues of fashion, he said, "I was thinking, we could set up a patrol schedule together. The four of us."

Bruce seemed to consider that seriously. "Don't want to get predictable," he said, finally.

Dick consciously told himself not to grit his teeth. Yeah, just forget it. What had he been thinking, anyway? Despite recent evidence, the Batman didn't do teamwork. He took a breath, ready to make some noises about how he had to leave.

"Does your suit have a comm link? We should share our radio codes. Keep in touch out there."

Dick gave him a suspicious look. "I'm not wearing a tracker," he declared categorically.

"Maybe you should. Maybe we all should." Dick stared. Surprised didn't begin to cover it. Bruce gave him a wry smile. "It might come in handy for emergencies. Barbara keeps trying to talk me into it, especially after Croc knocked me out and stuffed me in an underwater equipment locker once. I almost drowned." He said that like it was a normal day at the office. Typical.

"Radios would be good," he answered, deliberately avoiding the other thing. "That way we won't keep running into each other on patrol." And getting into those awkward tableaus where he and Batman glared at each other from a distance and Batgirl did a lot of internal but obvious sighing.

"It's... not so bad to run into each other." No way was that as casual as Bruce made it sound. Dick studied him, but only out of habit. The man was too good to give anything away, and only getting more inscrutable every year.

"All right," he said. "Give me the frequencies and encryption codes for tomorrow night. You still rotate them using the same algorithm?"

Bruce shook his head. "Barbara's come up with a new randomizer. I'll have her upload it to you. Do you have the upgrade for the receivers yet? Came out last month."

"Yeah, I've got it." He'd said he'd stop sponging off of Bruce, and he'd meant it. All his equipment now was coming out of his own pocket. It certainly made him appreciate better the way Bruce threw money around. But, like he used to tell Dick, if a few grand (give or take an order of magnitude) could mean the difference between life and death (for himself or for others), it was worth it.

"Good." Bruce showed him a grim but satisfied smile, the one that said, _"We're done for the night, Robin. Let's go home."_

Nothing was really resolved, exactly. But for the first time in a long while, Dick thought maybe they could start on the way there.

***   
***

"If you don't trust me, Batman, trust him."

Another rooftop. Another balcony. A slightly different show.

People could get tired of seeing anything, his dad used to say, even triple somersaults without a net. The trick was to show them what they expected -- and then a little something more. His mom had used to say, it never hurt to set something on fire.

Batman's face was a blank wall of granite, like always. "I guess I have to," he said. His tone was perfectly balanced between suspicious and ironic. Very believable. Nightwing made a choice to take it personally.

Enter oil can. Enter match.

Bruce had always taught him to use what he had.

He made sure to project guarded hostility as he escorted Batman out through Selina's balcony doors.

The sight of Batgirl crouched on an outcropping caught him a little off balance. She was too far away for him to make out her expression, but her gaze seemed... intent. He couldn't tell if Batman had clued her in on the op yet or not. The thought was unexpectedly worrisome. But. Babs wasn't his responsibility anymore -- if she ever had been. She'd proven plenty of times that she could take care of herself, as both Barbara Gordon and as Batgirl. She ought to know by now that working with Batman was always a game of shadows. If she weren't part of the plan, then she should know better than to feel hurt over this, he told himself.

Still, he didn't like being part of manipulating members of their own team. Didn't like that he had bowed to Batman's opinion. Again. He didn't have to fake a glare as he watched the two of them leave from his vantage point on Selina's balcony.

If Batman screwed around with him on this, he was out for good. That was a promise.

But if this went the way it was supposed to... If Batman could show that he trusted Nightwing, really trusted him all the way... Well.

There was still a part of him, when he was out on the rooftops of Gotham City, that looked over his shoulder sometimes, expecting to see a black cape alongside him. It might be nice -- occasionally -- to experience that again. For old time's sake.

Who knows? Maybe the guy who watched "It's A Wonderful Life" with him was still in there somewhere. And maybe the kid who cajoled him into it could be scrounged up again, too. For special occasions.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
> [Innocence Lost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2267649) (Batman), by kuonji   
> [Twin Souls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/245949) (Fushigi Yuugi), by kuonji   
> [Road To Healing](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3244438/1/Road_to_Healing) (Batman, Nightwing), by OneMind   
> [Tax Shelters #3](http://www.trickster.org/speranza/cesper/Taxes.html#3) (Batman), by Lucy   
> [Your Shadow No More](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpTgTSkBFMA) (Batman TAS music video), by bluebird


End file.
